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California Dreaming/Story
This page contains the story of California Dreaming. California Dreaming “If everybody had an ocean, across the U-S-A~! Then everybody would be surfin, like Californ-i-a~! You’d see em wearin their baggies, huarache sandals, to~o! Bushy, bushy blonde hair~do! Surfin USA!” Scotty was humming along to his radio, California sunlight streaming in through his office window, filling out paperwork. It’d been a week since he’d gotten accepted into the position of bonafide talent agent but he had yet to earn himself a client. His boss had really gotten onto him about it, but he didn’t let it bother him too much. Then his phone rang, and Scotty, fully expecting it to be another noise complaint or insult of his music taste, preemptively turned the dial to zero on his radio. “Hello, Affen,” he greeted. “Hey, hon, just sent two people your way!” “Oh, sh-- thanks!” “Dream on, sir, Amur might turn you down~!” Scotty shook his head and scoffed to himself, then he placed the phone back on its hook, put out his cigarette, and waited. Soon enough, two people barged in. One was a white human man in a blue suit not unlike Scotty’s, an orange kerchief was in the place of a tie and white-rimmed sunglasses were clipped onto his lapel. The other was a pale Afghan Hound in a white off-the-shoulder dress that nearly matched her fur-tone, her ears trimmed in a way that looked like the dog-equivalent of a bob. “Morning,” said the man, “My name is CB Schlemiel, and this is my friend, Sasha Jackson. I’m looking to direct a movie and she will star in it.” Scotty was taken aback a moment by the speed of his speech, and for a moment wondered why he was in the agent seat rather than him. “Well, shoot.” (...) Shockingly enough, Amur, his boss, had given Scotty the go-ahead for CB and Sasha. Scotty got a bit too attached to the both of them and decided to stick around on set after helping them rent a place. Their movie was called California Red Light, a drama-filled story about drugs and drag races of a run-down California city in the 80s. He liked Sasha a lot more than he liked CB. Currently, he and Sasha were laughing and drinking coffees while a scene where she was very in-the-background was being shot. Scotty’s heart fluttered every time he heard Sasha’s laugh. He quickly came from agent to friend, in any sense. Scotty didn’t know how, but they’d gotten on the topic of Christmas songs and how much Sasha hated them. “I’ll give em one thing,” she mused, taking another sip, “I think Santa Baby’s a banger.” “Oh, I hate that song.” Sasha let out a light snicker and elbowed him, “Oh sure. But it did give me my favorite nickname.” “Oh yeah?” “Oh yeah. Sixty-nine convertible was my nickname in college.” Scotty bust out laughing. So much so CB shot Sasha a look, but she just waved it off. When Scotty finally came back down he wiped an eye. A few seconds later, he spoke. “Oh my goood. Did you live up to it?” “Yup. Hey, can I let you in on a secret?” she added on after Scotty came back from another laughing burst. “Shoot.” She lowered her voice, “I’m transgender.” Scotty blinked, confused, and took a sip of coffee, “Okay?” “You care?” “Not really. I think my boss would kill the both of us if she found out, though.” Sasha let out a light chuckle, taking her last drink and making a solid three-pointer into the furthest trash can. She clapped her hands together at her throw-well-done before waving to Scotty, heading back to set. “Hell,” Scotty muttered to himself, into his cup, “I’m falling in love.” (...) CRL was well on its way toward completion. The three were nearly inseparable in work hours, and Scotty and CB really warmed up to eachother. So had Scotty and Sasha, in a sense, the only thing their very flirtatious relationship was missing were romantic affection and commitment. Not that either were taken. Sasha had finished all her scenes, in any case. Sasha was just about to leave, too, putting on her jacket. Scotty impulsively rushed up and tapped her shoulder. Despite the state of their relationship, she seemed even taller and more intimidating in the thick cat-eye of her character and her leather. “...will you go out with me?” he asked quickly and quietly, hoping CB wouldn’t hear and knowing full-well he’d shout at him if he did. “Sure,” Sasha answered without a thought, jingling her keys in her pocket. “Where you thinking?” “I know a pretty good bar-n-grill in Burbank.” Sasha nodded, “Sweet.” It went well. They ate and foot-tapped to the jukebox. Scotty had to cut himself off after one drink because he knew he’d do something stupid if he drank more. Also because he knew that if he was blackout drunk, Sasha would actually steal his car. She made fun of him. “I don't know, Scotty,” she said, “You always seemed like the type to sneak a bottle of white wine into your finals and pass it around during lunch.” “Lord knows I needed it,” he answered, making Sasha laugh. “You take me for a white wine guy, huh.” “Sure. That or straight-up moonshine.” Then it was Scotty’s turn to laugh. Turns out he didn't need alcohol to do stupid things, because before he started driving off, he gave a deep sigh. “I think I love you, Sasha,” he admitted. “Think? God, we’ve been having an affair for months and you’re just now realizing?” she answered, but her tone was more jokes than anger. “Okay, you're right,” Scotty added after a moment, “I don't know,” he admitted, “I didn't want CB to jump down my throat for us being together.” Sasha snickered and smirked at him, “Well, in that case, you wanna take it to your place, find out if you're really a moonshine man?” Scotty let out an embarrassed laugh and felt his face catch fire. He placed one hand to a closed eye and pressed harder against his seat and the wheel. “Jesus chi-hi-hi-st…” (...) “I’m sorry, you’re what?” Scotty turned around. CB was blocking the door back to the inside of the wrap party. Scotty felt his heart skip and he clutched the railing of the balcony harder. The three had started and finished their second movie, Scotty and Sasha secretly dating all the way through. This confrontation couldn’t be good. “What…?” he softly said back, hoping he wouldn’t get in trouble if he didn’t acknowledge anything. CB came forward and prodded his chest, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Prescott. You know ''exactly ''what your and Sasha’s relationship is.” Scotty gulped and stepped away to put out his cigarette. He worried about what CB would do to either of them and impulsively answered, “...and?” “Your relationship is ''absolutely ''inappropriate and I can’t believe it’s even a thing.” “...m’sorry.” CB crossed his arms and sighed, disappointedly looking to their feet, “No, you’re not. You don’t care. And neither does Sasha,” he turned to go back inside, “I’m finding a new agent.” “Sasha won’t go with you.” “I don’t give a damn.” (...) Scotty wasn’t sure where he was or how he got there. It was dark and storming and so misty he couldn’t tell the sidewalk from the road, which was already confusing enough. He truly felt like a pathetic lost pet just looking for its owner who could only see in monochrome. Least to say the loud honking didn’t help soothe his anxiety, and he only realized what was happening as a car slammed into his thigh and his prosthetic got caught on something-- Scotty shot up, gasping. He was in his apartment- his ''Manhattan ''apartment- and it was the same navy blue it’d always been. The curtain next to his bed was just barely open, but still relentlessly poured in moonlight and streetlights. He could feel his prosthetic against his good leg and everything was there. No one was next to him. Not Sasha. Not Piper. Not the one after Piper. Not his most recent crush. He sighed and dragged a hand across his face before lighting a cigarette and grabbing his phone. He’d be lucky to sleep for the next week after that. Category:Rewrite Category:Stories